


jump on a high speed train

by Biscay



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Chlodine Week 2018, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-29 21:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biscay/pseuds/Biscay
Summary: Prompt fills for tumblr's Chlodine Week 2018





	1. Flustered

**Author's Note:**

> So this is happening!! These are likely to be short and a little rushed because, turns out, writing a fic a day is hard. Huge thanks to contrivedchaos for organising this event, plus everyone who said nice things about my other fic <3

Nadine Ross doesn’t do flattery. Her men at Shoreline quickly learned that compliments were rare, hard-earned, but sincere. She was totally honest with Chloe when she talked about how nice it was to work with a woman for a change. 

Adventuring in India felt like a breath of fresh air after working within the masculine culture of a paramilitary organisation for so long; no dick-waving, no one-upmanship. Just as she found herself getting used to having female company, Sam Drake’s ridiculous face showed up and Nadine vowed to never take working with women for granted again. 

Her vow had been women (generally), but since Asav, the Tusk, and the start of a new partnership, Nadine’s been working with woman (singular). 

And honestly, despite the loss of Shoreline - the connection to her father and the years of work she put into the company - Nadine doesn’t regret it for a moment. Like any partnership, she and Chloe have highs and lows, disagreements and fights, but on a purely pragmatic level, it works. On an emotional level it’s worth it too.

It’s just. Chloe flirts so much. 

Yesterday they’d been walking through the outskirts of Marrakesh, stopping for a quick bite to eat. A bird with bright eyes and rust-red belly had landed nearby, watching them carefully. 

“Moussier's redstart,” Nadine explained, to Chloe’s inquiring look, “local bird in the thrush family.”

With the temptation of crumbs from lunch, the bird hopped fearlessly into Nadine’s hand, perched on a finger and pecking into her palm. 

Chloe had smoothly grabbed her phone, the movement subtle so not disturb the redstart, snapping photos. 

“Gorgeous,” Chloe said, as she watched the scene through the screen on her phone, then looked up to catch Nadine’s eye and grinned, “the bird’s cute too.”

Nadine’s worked with salacious men before, and unless their attraction brought a tactical advantage, a response between telling men to fuck themselves and punching their teeth out - the violence scale proportional to the crudeness of their comments - usually brought a swift end to unwanted attention. 

The most obvious difference is that Chloe’s comments are never tasteless - embarrassing, and with the intent to make her blush, but always respectful - and when Chloe makes jokes and teases Nadine, the problem is twofold: firstly that Nadine doesn’t mind the attention, and secondly, that Chloe knows it.

Two days since the bird incident, and they’re still in Marrakesh, taking some well-earned rest in a hotel following a partially-successful job hunting down Rabati embroidery for a client. The scorching July sun burns overhead, and Nadine’s not planning on leaving their air-conditioned room unless she absolutely has to. She’s tempted to take a nap - she’s been up since five, as per her usual routine, and the job meant the last three nights have been late ones - and she taps the phone next to her to check the time. 

It’s just after three, but the fact barely registers as she stares at the screen.

“What is this?”

“It’s my phone,” Chloe says, glancing over from where she’s snacking on fruit at the room’s corner kitchenette, “yours is the one in that case that looks bombproof. Think it’s charging over there.”

“What’s this background picture?”

Chloe is the picture of innocence. “Photo I took in India. Do you like it?”

“It’s of me.”

“You’re in it, sure.”

“It’s of me holding up that stupid mirror.”

Chloe sets down her plate, walks over and plucks the phone from Nadine’s hand, looking fondly at the picture before looking equally fondly at Nadine. “It’s art.”

The thump of her heartbeat and heat rising to her face when Chloe says these kinds of things is annoyingly familiar; she’s convinced Chloe’s aim is to fluster her like this at least once a day, but there’s a note of reverence in Chloe’s voice that makes this feel less like teasing. That makes everything worse.

“It’s my favourite picture of you.”

Nadine remembers when the photograph was taken, the two of them trying to make mirrors reflect beams of light at the correct angle, Chloe stopping everything to snap a picture of her. 

She remembers what Chloe said, staring up at her on the broken plinth. _Phenomenal_. At the time Nadine assumed she was just deliberately making her squirm, but the way Chloe’s looking at her now means she’s not so sure. 

In a split-second decision, Nadine kisses her, firm and sure. Without a moment of hesitation, Chloe meets her with enthusiasm. The warmth in her face doesn’t quite dissipate, but Nadine can’t bring herself to care as the kiss settles into a rhythm, and she dimly registers that Chloe tastes of oranges and persimmons.

When they break apart, Nadine’s not sure what to say. Fortunately, Chloe’s got plenty of words. 

“Fucking hell Nadine, _finally_.”

Nadine steps back to glare at her, “what?”

Chloe steps forward to maintain the hair’s-breadth distance between them, “only that I’ve been waiting for you to do that for months.”

“What are you talking about? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Chloe throws her hands in the air, and their proximity means she nearly smacks Nadine’s nose, “I’ve been saying things ten times a day,”

“You’ve been making jokes, I thought you did that with everyone,”

“Not these kinds of jokes.”

Nadine furrows her brow, still not convinced this isn’t an elaborate prank, “I thought you just liked getting a reaction out of me.”

Chloe clenches her fists in a gesture that looks like she’s trying not to pull her own hair out, “yes! That’s what flirting _is_ , china!”

Nadine’s about ready to pull her hair out too and, not for the first time, she wonders how she’s fallen so far for this ridiculous, beautiful woman who is the very definition of infuriating.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe has the decency to look a little bashful, “it’s not like I’m famous for my good decisions. I like pushing your buttons but didn’t want to, you know, drive you away.”

“All right,” Nadine says, attempting to be a voice of reason, “we should sit down and we should talk about this and you should definitely stop trying to embarrass me all the time.”

“Nice try,” says Chloe, sneaking in a quick kiss because she can, “but I make no promises.”


	2. Memento

Nadine can’t remember the last time she attended a fancy function as a genuine guest. She and Chloe have attended three soirées in as many months, but each time made off with a priceless treasure (or, memorably, not) long before the evening was over.

No such luck this evening. On the back of a donation of several Indigenous Australian artifacts lifted from a private collection, she and Chloe have been invited to Sydney’s Aboriginal Heritage Museum’s annual ball. It took weeks of persuasion on Chloe's behalf to convince her to attend and even now she's not sure she made the right choice. She sips champagne and considers how much easier it is to get through a formal event with a plan of action detailed down to the second than it is to mill around, enduring small talk from fussy philanthropists.

On top of everything, Chloe’s late.

Nadine expertly avoids the other guests, keeping her eyes on the exhibition while idly pondering the flaws in the museum’s security system. She’s admiring a collection of pottery when she sees a figure approach from behind in the reflection of the glass.

“You’d be late to your own funeral,” she says to Chloe’s reflection. 

“Relax,” says Chloe, leaning close so her breath tickles Nadine’s ear, makes the hairs on her arms stand on end. Nadine stifles her reaction and turns around. “You know I like to make an entrance.”

“Chloe-”

She’s seen Chloe in a dress before; they’ve had more jobs than she can count that required formalwear, but maybe it’s been too long, or maybe it’s this dress, but Nadine’s momentarily speechless. 

She’s a vision in red and gold, the skirt falling to the floor in waves, and like Chloe herself, it manages to be both showy and elegant at once. The neckline is just this side of tasteful, and around her neck rests one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry Nadine’s laid eyes on. Which, from someone whose career for the last year has been securing rare and valuable items, is really saying something. A magnificent golden Kundan necklace, uncut rubies laid into a delicate framework, Nadine can’t help but stare. As she does, she realises that the necklace’s centrepiece, a blood-red spherical gemstone, looks familiar.

“My eyes are up here love,” Chloe says, eyes glittering as much as her jewelry.

Nadine ignores her, leaning in to get a better look, so close she’s breathing Chloe’s heady perfume. “Is that - is that the Queen’s Ruby?”

“To go with my dress,” Chloe smiles coquettishly, “you like it?”

Nadine runs through hundreds of different things she could say, each more emotionally vulnerable than the last. Eventually she manages, “I thought we sold it.”

“Yeah, about that. I couldn’t bring myself to part with it in the end,” Chloe has the decency to look a little sheepish, “it’s too beautiful, too Indian. And the first treasure we found together. Do you remember?”

Nadine’s nearly speechless. “Ja. Of course.”

“Sentimental, I know. Don’t tell anyone, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“But - you sold it. You gave me half the money.”

Chloe shrugs. “I sold some other stuff. You needed to get your share, it was only fair.”

Nadine’s not sure what to say to that, so settles on the truth. “I’m glad you kept it. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Chloe takes her time looking Nadine up and down, from her natural hair pushed back with a silver hairband, to her diamond earrings, and down past her sapphire-blue dress cut to show off her arms, a feature Chloe’s never been subtle about appreciating, “you’re absolutely gorgeous yourself.”

Nadine nods, a smile pulling at her lips, “I know.” Still, she can’t help wishing she had something from their time in India, other than some slowly-fading scars, as a memento of their first job together.

“Fancy a dance?” Chloe asks, casual words belied by a flash of vulnerability that Nadine’s sure anybody but her would have missed.

“You only asked so you could lead.”

“I _always_ lead.”

“Even with Drake?” Nadine surprises herself that there’s no jealousy, just a very amusing mental picture, “that must have been a sight.”

“Firstly: yes, it probably was,” Chloe says, “and secondly, he’s not here. You are. And I’m asking you to dance.”

Nadine’s heels are slightly higher than Chloe’s, bringing them to near-equal height. The glittering ruby around Chloe’s neck sparkles and as Nadine looks from it to Chloe’s face she considers that she doesn’t need a memento when she’s making new memories with Chloe every day. 

Nadine loops her arm through Chloe’s and allows her to lead the way through to the main hall, “fine. Try to behave yourself.”

“C’mon china,” Chloe flashes her a winning smile and Nadine knows this will be a night to remember, “we’ll be the belles of the ball.”


End file.
